


The Color of Bloodshed

by transfixme_quite



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-21
Updated: 2012-07-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 10:35:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transfixme_quite/pseuds/transfixme_quite





	The Color of Bloodshed

Erik stared at the helmet. It represented so much. His entire life, to put it simply.

Every memory of Shaw. What he did to Erik as a child; before, after. The experiments. This helmet would not exist, had Shaw not used Erik to become an artificial mutant. He mutated the entire meaning of being a mutant, if that were possible.

Of being forced to leave Charles. He would never admit the force was his own. Not out loud. The moment he destroyed Charles’ body. The look in Charles’ eyes when he said “She didn’t do this. You did.” Erik didn’t think he could ever hurt worse until that moment.

He couldn’t get rid of it. It was his only protection from the one thing he wanted most. It’s a human condition to hide from what you need. Human. He wasn’t human. He refused to attempt to be one. He had to remind himself, this is why he needed to keep this helmet, to keep Charles out. He was punishing Charles, and in turn, punishing himself for hurting the only person he ever allowed himself to love since his own mother.

Dichotomy. What a bother.

Carefully, he dipped his paintbrush into the jar, dabbing the bristles on the edge, and slowly stroked it across the helmet. A dark red. Blood red. The color simultaneously removed the horrid memories, yet allowed him to remember why he was doing what he was doing. Humans made him relive that color of bloodshed every day of his life. And they would pay. He would take Charles down with them if he had to. He didn’t want to. God knew he didn’t want to. Erik sighed, painting another brush stroke, imagining his worst fear, knowing that even if he had Charles dying in his arms, their eyes would meet, and at his end, Charles would know, too, that Erik never wanted it to be like this.


End file.
